Cliff looked at his father, watching him as he lay in the hospital bed. Cliff had been there from early morning until late afternoon every day that his father had been admitted for heart surgery. He thought his father looked weak. Frail. To be expected, he surmised, after heart surgery.

His father had an aneurism on his heart. Doctors told him it was not as dangerous as an aneurism in other parts of the body. They said it could be tended relatively easily as such things go. Cliff was beginning to think that had been an overly optimistic view.

His father opened his eyes and saw his son. He signaled a nurse, asking for pen and paper. With a shaky hand, he wrote a brief note and held it out to Cliff.

The note read: “This is it.”

Cliff felt a chill run through him when he read those words.

“No, Dad,” he said, trying to sound calm though he didn’t feel so. “The doctor says you’re going to be fine.”

His father closed his eyes.

Cliff hadn’t seen the world famous surgeon who had performed the operation on his father since the day of the surgery. He spoke every day with the young resident doctor when he came through his father’s section. Today was no different.

“Doctor, Dad doesn’t believe he’s going to survive,” Cliff said. “Is that true? Is he going to walk out of here?”

“Well, he’s not improving as quickly as we had hoped,” the doctor said.

Later Cliff was surprised to see the surgeon himself walking through his father’s section. He moved quickly to head him off.

“Doctor, I’m told my dad isn’t improving as quickly as you had hoped,” Cliff asked. “Is he going to recover?”

The doctor’s face turned a bright red. For a moment, Cliff thought the man’s head would explode.

“Who told you that?” the doctor almost yelled. “No one talks about one of my patients but me. I want a name.”

Cliff restrained from looking at the young resident standing beside the world famous surgeon. He could imagine the young man must be sweating. He knew full well his future depended on what Cliff said next.

“I really couldn’t say,” was Cliff’s reply. “I’ve spoken with several people over the days since I last saw you.”

Without another word, without answering Cliff’s concern, the world famous doctor stomped away.

Cliff watched him go.

Most people thought the world famous doctor looked brilliant.

Cliff thought he looked short.

There’s nothing wrong with being short, Cliff thought. The world famous doctor made being short look wrong. It was the cowboy boots, Cliff decided. Trying to appear taller the doctor wore cowboy boots with extraordinarily high heels. They didn’t make him look tall. The boots only succeeded in making him look like he was trying to not look short.

The boots didn’t work. He looked short. Short and ridiculous.

After four weeks, Cliff had not again seen the world famous doctor. He spoke with the young resident doctor. Cliff told the resident that he needed to go home for a few days. He had a son who was staying with friends. He needed to go take care of matters at home but would return. If his father’s condition worsened he would return within hours.

He spoke with the young resident every day for four days. Each day he was told his father was doing fine.

On the fifth day his phone rang. The young resident told Cliff he should return immediately. Cliff’s father was dying.

Cliff went through a range of emotions on the flight back to the hospital. Sadness. Fear. Anger. No, not anger. Rage. Cliff was furious with a doctor, genius though he might be, whose ego was so great he had put all of them, Cliff, his father, the young resident and who knows how many others of the medical staff, in what would no doubt be a heart breaking situation. The young resident apologized to Cliff, telling him they told Cliff what they were instructed to tell him. The young resident did, indeed, seem as heart broken as was Cliff.

Cliff followed the hearse on the four hour drive to his father’s home town. After the service, Cliff drove back to the hospital. He intended to bring the world famous doctor down to his true height.

A statue of the doctor, arms raised in the position of savior, had been erected in the lobby of the hospital. Though Cliff despised the statue, it would serve his purpose well.

For three days he watched the lobby, noting the movement of the world famous doctor through it. He noted the doctor passed through the lobby apparently going to and from lunch in the early afternoon. It was the only time that he appeared to be alone. There were others about but they stayed well away from the doctor. He moved through the room looking at no one. Cliff suspected he didn’t know the names of the other members of the hospital staff though he worked with them daily. Cliff made a plan for the following day.

As the world famous surgeon entered the lobby, Cliff was waiting. He caught the doctor by the collar, stuffed a sock into his mouth, and dragged him to a waiting, empty storage room. Cliff tied a scarf around the doctor’s mouth to secure the gag, cuffed his hands behind his back, and pushed the little man to the floor.

“My father died thanks to your arrogance, you little jerk,” Cliff said, watching the doctor’s eyes bug nearly out of his head. He doubted anyone had ever spoken to the doctor in that manner. “He might have died anyway, but you didn’t help him. I’m going to make you pay for that.”

He saw the fear in the doctor’s eyes. He laughed perniciously.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Cliff said, “though I would surely enjoy it. But Dad wouldn’t want me to do that. Dad would, I think, get a kick out of what I am going to do. I’m going to show you and the world what a truly little man you really are.”

With that, he pulled the cowboy boots with the ridiculously high heels off the man’s small feet.

Leaving the doctor bound and gagged in the storage room, Cliff walked over to the statute with the upraised arms. He easily reached up and slid a boot over each arm. He saw a few of the medical staff smile as they recognized the silly boots.

Cliff returned to the storage room and released the doctor. Opening the door, he pushed the man into the lobby.

“Go get’em doc,” he said.

The doctor looked around, not sure what to do.

“You there,” he called to a passing man. “Go get those boots.”

The man turned his face away and kept walking, ignoring the doctor.

Finally, the world famous surgeon realized he would have to get the boots himself. He moved quickly to the statute and reached for the boots. He failed. He couldn’t reach them. Cliff saw more staff averting their faces and smiling. The surgeon might be world famous but he had few friends. Cliff leaned against the wall, enjoying the scene.

Eventually a security guard wandered into the room. The world famous surgeon shouted at the man, telling him to get the boots.

The guard looked at the world famous surgeon with contempt. For a moment, Cliff thought the guard also would ignore the little man. Eventually he decided it was his job. But apparently he didn’t think he had to show respect in doing it. He lifted the small man high enough to allow him to retrieve the boots himself.

To Cliff’s surprise, and delight, the doctor didn’t pull the boots on. Rather, he ran out the door and, clutching his beloved boots, disappeared down the street.

In the lobby, there was no applause, though there was barely concealed delight on the faces many of the medical staff.

Cliff smiled. He thought his dad would be smiling, too.